


It's been too long since I last kissed you

by trashmouthTM (deasar)



Series: Short Drabbles from IT [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: "fix it", Fix it of sorts, Like, M/M, a very sad and depressing fix it, and also really crappy sorry, i can't write, implied suicide, it's really not don't get your hopes up, it's sad y'all, or should i say were married, richie and eddie are married, this is really short holy hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deasar/pseuds/trashmouthTM
Summary: Richie misses him, and it hurts too much for him to handle





	It's been too long since I last kissed you

**Author's Note:**

> okay so the little song in the middle was written by not me but by liv ( @beepbeepliv) who is so fucking talented so go read her stuff rather than any drabbles that i might post she deserves it

Feelings are complicated. That’s just a universal truth that shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, not even Richie, but he didn’t think they could hit him _this_ hard. Especially after so many years. It truly still felt like someone was digging into his chest and ripping his heart out time and time again in a never-ending loop with claws made out of rusty jagged claws. He moved to slowly pull his glasses off and set them down on the ground, not caring if they got muddy; it’s not like it mattered to him anymore. Nothing did. The curly haired man turned his head to face the sky and let the rain pour onto his face, just watching the grey sky as the wind picked up even more and started howling.

After letting out a shaky sigh and taking a long drink from the now almost empty whiskey bottle he had brought with him he shifted to lift his guitar back on his lap and in the correct position that came naturally and without thinking. Any other day he might have cared about the shape it was in, soaked and covered in wet mud and soil, but not today, not right now. Even after spending what had to have been hours sitting outside in the rain, Richie’s voice still seemed to work well enough to sound decent as he started to sing. At least that’s what others would have probably told him if he had been in any state to care or give it another thought. 

_“I know you had to leave but I wish you took my heart with you_  
_Because now that you’re gone it has nothing to beat for_  
_And when I lay here, on the dirt I almost feel you_  
_It could just be the poison flooding my blood or_

_Maybe I’m coming to term with the fact that you’re gone_  
_Either way, laying by your stone is the only time I’m calm_  
_You said ‘move on and be happy’ but how could I?_  
_You’ve ruined happiness for me, you’ve left me grey skies"_  
  


Richie couldn’t help it as his voice finally cracked during the last words, him finally breaking down into heaving sobs with the years of bottled up sorrow and nights spent alone drinking his feelings away finally seemed to be catching up and was shattering whatever little pieces were still intact inside him. He slowly raised his arm, gracing the smooth stone with a shaking hand, and traced his fingertips over the words carved on it gently. Almost as if hoping it might bring the person whose name was written on the stone back. **‘Here lies Edward "Eds" Kaspbrak, a loved husband and a valued member of the Losers Club’** Richie let out a wet laugh, it had truly been a hilarious time trying to convince the funeral home to write about Eddie being a loser on his gravestone. And the name Eds; he would have hated to have that immortalized in a way like this, but maybe that was the reason Richie insisted on carving it there. He couldn’t help but try to keep feeding the tiny flare of lingering hope that maybe it would piss Eddie off enough for him to come back to haunt him about it. It seemed impossible but impossible was the way he had died, so maybe it could have worked. It hadn’t. 

Richie looked around, and despite not having his glasses on and just seeing grey, smudgy spots it was easy for him to imagine his surroundings in great, vivid detail. That’s one of the things you apparently memorize after a long time of coming back to the graveyard at least weekly, sometimes even more often than that. Which was a stupid thing to do in itself, it wasn’t like there was anything here but an empty grave and a stone with some letters on it. The body of Eddie, Richie’s beloved husband, still lay rotting in the old and now probably collapsed parts of the maze that was Derry’s old sewer system. The same place where he had been left behind, because of Richie and his inability to carry Eddie’s body out. It was _his_ fault that the love of his life now laid molding and composting in the puddles of gray water tainted with both dried and still flowing blood. 

Richie hung his head, his tears had dried out and stopped coming some time ago already, and the only proof that they were ever even there were the faint tear tracks going down his cheeks, and even those were being washed away by the rain more and more with every passing second. _It was all his fault. He wasn’t able to save him or keep him safe in the first place. Like he had promised to do. It was **his** fault._ He shook his head, picked up his glasses and put them on again, although they did little to nothing to improve his vision anymore. After giving the gravestone one last look and turning his head away in shame almost immediately, feeling like the stone was making fun of him and blaming him just by existing alone, Richie finally turned away leaving his guitar on the ground. Just how he had left his body. Maybe someone would find and fix it, or maybe it would just sink into the ground to be broken and forgotten. _Like he did._ He couldn’t care less, and it wouldn’t be his problem for much longer. 

Richie stood with his back facing the stone, not strong enough to look at it anymore so he just turned his head slightly, whispering softly over his shoulder the words he had been wanting to say for so long now. “I’m sorry Eds, I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t mean to fail you. _I’m so sorry_.”  
He took one last deep breath, slowly starting to walk towards the gates of the old and abandoned Derry cemetery. It felt like the biggest prank done by destiny, or whatever the hell it was that was causing things to happen, to have them both be stuck in the place they despised more than anyone could ever imagine. Maybe it even had some twisted humor in it too. As he was leaving, Richie gripped the rusty spikes on the gate hard enough for them to tear open the long scar on his palm, but he didn’t even pay any thought to that as his mind was being overwhelmed by one single thought that managed to calm him down more than anything had been able to ever since he lost Eddie. 

_“At least I’ll see you in a minute or two Eds, I’m sorry I made you wait so long. You can be as mad as you want at me, but just please be there when I arrive. Please. I can’t be alone anymore. It's been too long since I last kissed you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi and talk to me about whatever or just yell about reddie on tumblr, my username is tastytozier


End file.
